Extraordinary Day
by Dragon with two hearts
Summary: Alfred comes across an angel in his garden, but it flees. When it shows up twice more, it looks ragged, and he begins to worry about its wellbeing. Alfred/Arthur really just a friendship one-shot that could easily be drawn into something more if I had the motivation.


It did not seem like a particularly extraordinary day when Alfred met the Angel. He had only been wandering around his yard when he found it- him, tending to his raggedy garden of all things. The holy messenger took flight immediately, vanishing into a low-drifting clod, leaving behind only a few feathers, which were carefully gathered. Alfred told no one.

The second time the angel looked different, thinner almost, and paler. He was once again in the garden, fiddling with a small rosebush. Alfred approached him quietly, observing. He did not expect the very unholy shriek that came from the man's mouth when he found him standing so close. The angel took off, shooting like a rocket into a leafy oak tree. Alfred walked to the base of the tree and looked up.

"Hello?" No answer. "Thanks for lookin' after my garden, Angel dude." There was not a quick response, so Alfred began walking away.

"It's 'look_ing_', git. And I am not a 'dude', I am a gentleman. My name is Arthur."

"Sweet, mine's Alfred. Do ya wanna come inside the house?"

Arthur stuttered a bit before denying, "I-I really should get going." He once again flew into a cloud, disappearing.

It was weeks before Alfred caught sight of Arthur again (he hadn't stopped thinking about the angel once). He looked better than the last time, but his wings looked like they had been run through a lawnmower. He was at the same rosebush, which had blossomed since his last visit, adding a color other than green to the yard. Alfred snuck up very close, and gently laid a hand on Arthur's shoulder.

The man screamed and started flapping his wings, kicking up a cloud of dust. He only goy a few feet off the ground before Alfred tackled him at the waist to the ground.

"Waiii! Frog bast-" His cry was cut short by a few quick, hacking coughs that brought visible tears to his eyes.

"Whoa dude, you okay?" Alfred asked, worried.

"No, I am not okay!" was the irate answer; "You just bloody jumped on my back and to top it off I'm-" He began coughing again, barely crawling to his hands and knees.

"You're sick." It wasn't a question.

"Well…yes, I suppose it could be called that, b-b-but it's nothing to worry about."

Alfred could see the angel's limbs tremble, and hear the raspy breathing. "…You're coming inside with me." He cut off the protests, "I'll see what medicine I have, but you need rest, not more hiding in the clouds." Alfred hoisted the angel up by the base of his wings, swiftly pulling him into a bridal style hold and carrying him inside.

Alfred set Arthur down on his sofa, making sure his friend was comfortable before going into the kitchen to make some soup and find some medicine. He got the soup on the stove and grabbed a bottle of some generic brand cough suppressant. The soup heated quickly, so Alfred filled a bowl and took it and the medicine back to the couch. Arthur looked up in a bit of a daze, green eyes dull with pain and illness, skin almost shiny with sweat. He didn't protest when Alfred shifted everything around, putting Arthur on his lap. He didn't protest when the medicine was offered to him, and he swallowed the pills without complaint. Arthur flinched away from the soup however, but Alfred just assumed it was because it was still rather hot.

They sat like that for about half an hour, neither saying a word. Alfred felt his eyes drooping, the heat of the body on top of him making him sleepy. He jumped a bit violently when the angel's head abruptly flopped onto his chest. Alfred leaned back only slightly, but the shift in weight was enough to cause Arthur to flop the other way, head thrown back in utter unconsciousness. Alfred was about to pull the angel to his previous position when the halo, which had glowed before, became dull and fell from the spot it was floating, landing with a sickening clink on the ground.

"Haha, I didn't know your halo could do that, Arthur." Alfred laid the angel down on the couch and went to retrieve the golden ring. He looked at it curiously for a moment, wondering what on earth could have made it fall, hoping it really was a sleep thing, and not the worst possibility. _Maybe holding it over his head will turn the glow back on._ Alfred propped Arthur up, and held him in place by the wrist. The halo was held at the proper height-at several heights-and still the glow did not come back. Alfred, engrossed by his work, did not notice Arthur's hand slipping until the angel toppled to the floor, limp and deathly pale.

Alfred grabbed his friend's shoulders, shaking them lightly at first, but rougher, as he got no response.

"Arthur?" _Would an angel have a heartbeat?_ "Arthur, don't play around." _Did angels breathe, or were they just souls?_ "Artie? Artie, wake up!" _How could a holy icon get ill in the first place? Things from heaven couldn't die._ "Arthur! God damnit Arthur, wake up!" _There was a lot he didn't know about his friend._

"N-no." The sob hung in the air, "No… don't go."

~~~~~~~ One year later ~~~~~~~

Alfred never told anyone of his friend-for-a-month. Anyone who kept in close contact did not seem to see the sadness lingering in his eyes, or if they did, it was not commented on. The rosebush had never done better, staying green far longer than other plants, and blooming far earlier. Every day Alfred visited it, but fast approaching was the anniversary of _that_ day.

The morning of, Alfred spent lots of time preparing. Wearing proper mourning clothing and grabbing the bunch of roses he had purchased the day before, he made his way out to the garden.

There were people already there.

Four people, three men and one child, dressed in head to toe black, save for the large, shimmering wings sprouting from their backs.

The day certainly felt extraordinary enough for it.

=0=0=0=

**Aww, poor Alfred. I'm not really one for USUK, but after seeing this:** ** post/10253675573/shooterstar I couldn't help but write something. (there's a source somewhere on the page)**

**Clearly I don't do death fics, either. They're either too sappy, or not sappy enough. I can never find a good middle ground. :( **

**As for the people at the end, at least two should be obvious, even though I gave minimal description. It's Francis, Antonio, Kiku and Peter.**

**Read and review. Or don't. Whatever you want.**


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